The personal cost of standing up for democracy

What is lost and what is gained in the pursuit of truth

A front row seat to history, from the background.

Reflection is not always easy.

I try not to dwell on what might have been; I focus on what I learned from the choices that were in my control. Still, I felt mixed emotions yesterday morning when I learned that The Last Republican , a documentary film I was heavily involved in as Chief of Staff to Adam Kinzinger, is now available to stream. The film premiered at the Toronto Film Festival while I was leading the Republican outreach effort for the Harris campaign — a moment in time when I believed she would win and American democracy wouldn’t be where we are now.

The documentary is a portrait of Adam’s final year in office, which includes the work of the January 6th Committee — and the isolation and emotional toll experienced by him, his family, and his staff. It pulls back the curtain on how that unprecedented committee worked to tell the story of January 6th without partisan varnish. But most of all, it shows what a hard decision actually costs.

We’re told by our parents, teachers, and friends that doing the right thing is often hard; what’s harder is grasping the consequences in full.

As the film shows, the cost was steep. Adam received death threats and social ostracism. His family sent letters condemning him. Staff faced daily threats and anger from constituents — and pressure from our own families over the decisions being made. These last few years have taken a lot from many people who chose to do what they believed was right, and put country over party.

I think of Olivia Troye and Miles Taylor. I think of Chris Krebs, who told the truth and still lives with the fallout. I think of the Republican members of Congress who lost reelection because they voted to impeach — and the staffers whose careers were upended alongside their bosses’. I think of Stephen Richer in Maricopa County, who fought tooth and nail to maintain the integrity of Arizona’s election process and paid a political price. I think of Mesa, AZ City Councilmember Julie Spilsbury, now facing a recall and saying life has been hell since she joined Republicans for Harris last year. I think of the January 6th prosecutors being fired this week. I think of a former colleague in Adam’s office who lost a job because of his association.

So many lives have been turned upside down by opposing authoritarianism. I suspect there are more hard choices ahead. I’ve been lucky to make friends with many who did the right thing anyway, and there’s a common thread among them: they are the people you want beside you when the going gets tough.

The Stoics had a word we rarely use now: boulesis — the will’s clear wish for the good, guided by reason and yoked to action. It’s quieter than optimism and sturdier than outrage. Paired with prosochē — steady, watchful attention — it becomes a practical kind of hope: see clearly, choose cleanly, act promptly.

That’s the note I want to end on. Watch the film. Then pick one concrete act within reach: send a word of encouragement to someone under siege; back the unglamorous work that keeps our institutions honest; show up when the cameras are gone. Seneca called the result euthymia — a settled spirit that comes from walking your own path. In a noisy season, that’s the kind of hope we can stand on — and share.

The Last Republican is now streaming just about everywhere.